Tabla is the new Indian in town, a mezzanine-level restaurant above a food court in the oddball Hawaiian Marketplace.
For those who haven't yet experienced it, this cheesy new mall is a mini-Downtown smack in the middle of the Strip. It's awash with raucous Hawaiian musicians, dancers in grass skirts, kiosks selling souvenirs like Zippos and CSI T-shirts, and mostly overweight tourists. The Strip needs places where visitors can come and spend modestly, and this appears to be the latest ticket.
Tabla may be the jazziest place to eat in the mall, but there are lots of choices. The food court has a Boone's Barbecue and a place called Greek Island Grill, so no one need go hungry. Tabla is just up the escalator, and the decorators have done a surprisingly nice job. Most Indian restaurants tend to be turn-up-the-lights-and-eat, but this one has a nicely sublimated, atmospheric design.
The walls and floor are hand-painted, with a colorful mural of an Indian market on one side. The furniture is rustic, including wooden chairs and wicker booths. An abundance of ethnic crafts are scattered throughout, and a big statue of Ganesh, Hindu elephant god of domestic harmony and success, occupies its floor space.
Given how jarring the mall can be, this is a relaxing place to dine. Classical Indian music plays on the sound system, and the drop ceiling has been darkened, giving the room a softer glow. For a little more action, you can sit at tables placed on the restaurant's balcony, overlooking the main part of the mall.
The food isn't brilliant or innovative, but reliable and tasty. Like most of our Indian restaurants, the cuisine is Mughlai, the meat-rich cooking of India's north. The restaurant is a sister property to Gandhi, and the menu is close to what you find there, a pleasant Americanized version of this misunderstood cooking.
Given the amazing range of Indian cuisine, I wonder why there isn't more creativity and variety at Indian restaurants, but the answer probably lies in a combination of factors. One, Indian culture is fundamentally conservative, and two, most of us are not that familiar with Indian cuisine to begin with, so few owners like to take chances.
But, take a chance on appetizers like mulligatawny soup, a richly spiced chicken broth; or aloo tikki, two latke-like potato patties drizzled with probably too many exotic sauces for Americans and not enough for Indians. Pakoras are delicious garbanzo bean flour fritters that turn your fingers yellow from turmeric in the batter. Fish, chicken and vegetables are the options, served in a basket, lightly dusted with spice.
From the restaurant's tandoor, or clay oven, comes a delicious selection of meat, cheese and seafood. The tandoor's extreme heat, up to 800 degrees, seals in flavor without drying out whatever is cooked in it. Breads like naan and kulcha, flatbreads served piping hot, also are cooked in the clay oven, slapped to the side. Breads are an absolute must here, no matter what else is ordered.
But these meats are all worth a shout. Chicken tikka are savory chicken bites, while fish tandoori consists of juicy chunks of sea bass. Jingla masala are shrimps in a ginger-flavored sauce. If you are with a group, splurge and get the tandoori mix grill, a combination of shrimp, chicken and the ground lamb rolls seekh kabob.
Earlier, I referred to this cuisine as misunderstood, and it is the menu's curries section that is the source. I often hear people remark that they "don't like curry." In fact, curry is a generic term refering to a mixture of spices Indians call masala, and in theory, no two dishes are ever the same.
The menu's chicken korma, for instance, uses a mild cream sauce, while kurkari bhindi is okra cooked with browned onions, tomato and garlic. Lamb vindaloo is from the small, former Portuguese colony Goa on India's west coast, a fiery combination of lamb, potatoes and hot chili. Murg biryani is a casserole using a fragrant, fine-grained rice, basmati, from the Himalayas, along with nuts, raisins, butter, sautéed vegetables and chicken.
Indian desserts are generally based on milk, and here, things are no different. My favorite is ras gullah, sweet cheese balls soaked in a thick cream sauce. Kheer, a milky rice pudding chockablock with cashews and golden raisins, is another good one.
Tabla doesn't serve a lunch buffet, trademark of so many Indian restaurants, but there is a lunch menu consisting of specials like the multi-course thali, a metal tray lined with about a dozen small dishes, veg or non-veg.
Tabla is off to a promising start, but I'd still like to see more soul from the kitchen. When I compare restaurants like these to their counterparts in cities like New York, Los Angeles or London, Vegas just hasn't arrived in terms of an ethnic dining destination.